A Farewell to a Queen
by Lady Eleanor Boleyn
Summary: Late at night, the Ladies Mary and Elizabeth are summoned to the Queen's bedchamber. Jane is seriously ill, and wishes to say farewell. One shot. Takes place in episode 3.04.


_ A Farewell to a Queen_

Lady Mary Tudor, formerly Mary Tudor, Princess of Wales, lay in the narrow bed she shared with her little sister Elizabeth, sound asleep. The younger girl had cuddled up against the older one, and Mary's arms had subconsciously gone around her, so that the two slept safely in each other's arms. Mary smiled as she slept, for she was dreaming of the christening she had so recently attended – the christening of the long-awaited heir for England, Prince Edward Tudor.

Though he had been baptised in the Protestant faith, and she still clung to her Catholic beliefs, it hadn't stopped her father and her stepmother, Queen Jane Seymour of England, naming her his godmother.

Suddenly, Mary felt a slight shaking as she slept; a shaking which broke into the pleasures of her dream. She stirred, subconsciously thinking that Elizabeth must have awakened and want her attention.

"Hush, Elizabeth. Shh. It's -" she murmured drowsily, before opening her eyes fully and breaking off at the sight of the liveried servant who stood above her, bending over her to wake her.

"Yes?"

Struggling into a sitting position, she blinked the sand out of her eyes and tried to process what the page was saying.

"Lady Mary, Her Majesty is asking for you."

A jolt of fear shot through Mary's body. Queen Jane, her father's newest wife, and mother to the all-important heir, was now dangerously ill with childbed fever. If she was asking for her, it meant – well, Mary dared not even contemplate what it might mean.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she pulled on a gown specifically designed for receiving visitors in the dead of night – one of sky blue taffeta lined with satin – and made to go to the door, but the page halted her in her tracks.

"And the Lady Elizabeth, my lady. Her Majesty is also asking for the Lady Elizabeth."

Mary glanced back at her sleeping sister, and shook her head. "No. Not now; not at this hour. I'll take Elizabeth along later." Again she turned for the door. Again the servant barred her way.

"The Physician says the Queen does not have much longer, Lady Mary. If she is to see the Lady Elizabeth at all, it must be now." The gravity of his voice made it hit home to Mary just exactly **how **ill her stepmother had to be. With a heavy heart, she turned back to the bed, and shook Elizabeth awake.

"Bessie, come on. Come on."

The young girl wriggled and moaned "Mary, no. I'm tired.", but Mary persevered.

"I know, Bessie, I know, but the Queen is the Queen. We have to go to her when she wants us. Come on, I'll carry you."

Wrapping her sister in a shawl of finest white cashmere, she swept the younger girl into her arms and strode from the room purposefully.

****

As they approached, the herald announced in hushed tones "The Lady Mary and the Lady Elizabeth to see Her Majesty."

Jane half-rose in the bed, and Mary barely managed to suppress a gasp as she realised just how sick the woman was. It was painfully clear she wouldn't survive the night. Dropping into the best curtsy she could manage, given that she had Elizabeth in her arms, Mary rose and hissed at the nearest lady-in-waiting, who happened to be Jane Rochford, "Where's my father? He needs to know of this. Get him immediately!"

"Yes, Lady Mary." Jane curtsied, and fled, as Mary, clutching Elizabeth close to her, ran to the Queen's side, and dropped to her knees beside the bed.

"Oh Jane! Oh, Your Majesty!"

"Hush, Mary, my dear. All may yet be well." The Queen's voice was no more than a husky whisper, yet at the sound of it, Mary burst into floods of tears, soaking both herself and little Elizabeth with them, as they poured from her eyes, and rolled down her cheeks.

"It won't! I know it! You're going to die, and everything's going to be the way it used to be – Father's going to forget about me, and Elizabeth and everything will be hard and miserable again! You're going to die, Jane!"

"Hush, Mary, hush." Jane begged, as Elizabeth stared up at her elder sister in astonishment.

"Yes. I will die. I know it, but don't cry. I'm going to join your mother in heaven, Mary, I'm going to join her, and I'm going to tell her what a comfort you've been to me in these last months, what a lovely young woman you've become. I'm going to tell her how proud she deserves to be of you."

It was obviously an effort for the Queen to speak, but she reached out with a trembling hand, and passed it over Mary's hair, before saying "The rosary – on the window ledge. It was hers. I'd like you to have it – **Princess** Mary."

Astonished that Jane had just used the title that she still believed was rightfully hers in such an open manner, Mary set Elizabeth down on the edge of the bed, and went to fetch the rosary. It was a gorgeous one, but incredibly heavy, being made of pearls hung on golden ribbon. As she looped it over her head, Mary found herself wondering how on earth her mother had stood the weight of it dragging on her neck.

Then she returned to the bed, just in time to hear Elizabeth say "And will you see my Mama too?"

Mary stiffened, as she always did at any mention of Elizabeth's traitoress mother – Anne Boleyn, but Jane didn't hesitate. She nodded gravely, forcing herself to smile.

"Yes, Elizabeth. I will. I'll see her, and I'll tell her how beautiful and how clever you are. Can I tell her you'll be a wonderful older sister to Edward too?"

"Yes!" Elizabeth promised. "I'll be the best older sister there is – well, except for Mary." she added, with a guilty glance at the older girl who knelt by her side.

"Good. I'm glad." Jane murmured hoarsely, suddenly slumping back into her pillows. One look told Mary how exhausted the Queen was. She rose to her feet, gently pulling Elizabeth with her.

"Come on, Bessie. Let's go. Her Majesty needs to rest."

As she led the little girl out by the hand, they brushed past their father in the doorway. They curtsied side by side, but as Mary straightened up, she murmured to him "Hurry. Jane hasn't long left, Father."

As she did so, Mary glanced behind her to see that the Queen's eyes had closed, as she slipped out of consciousness. They were never to open again.


End file.
